The Age of Transition, 1400-1580: The poets

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G. Bell and sons, 1905
 

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Strana 213 - I cannot eat but little meat, My stomach is not good ; But sure I think, that I can drink With him that wears a hood...
Strana 186 - Which must be stilled with lullaby. First lullaby my youthful years; It is now time to go to bed, For crooked age and hoary hairs Have won the haven within my head. With lullaby, then, youth be still; With lullaby content thy will; Since courage quails and comes behind, Go, sleep, and so beguile thy mind.
Strana 168 - The turtle to her mate hath told her tale. Summer is come, for every spray now springs: The hart hath hung his old head on the pale; The buck in brake his winter coat he flings ; The fishes flete with new repaired scale.
Strana 198 - I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet...
Strana 156 - A DESCRIPTION OF SUCH A ONE AS HE WOULD LOVE. A FACE that should content me wondrous well, Should not be fair, but lovely to behold ; Of lively look, all grief for to repel ; With right good grace, so would I that it should Speak without word, such words as none can tell : Her tress also should be of crisped gold ; With wit, and these perchance I might be tried, And knit again with knot, that should not slide.
Strana 186 - Which must be still'd with lullaby. First lullaby my youthful years ! It is now time to go to bed : For, crooked age and hoary hairs Have won the haven within my head. ' With lullaby then youth be still,' " With lullaby content thy will ; Since courage quails...
Strana 160 - So cruel prison how could betide, alas, As proud Windsor ? Where I in lust and joy With a king's son my childish years did pass In greater feast than Priam's sons of Troy; Where each sweet place returns a taste full sour: The large green courts where we were wont to hove With eyes cast up into the maidens...
Strana 168 - THE soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings, With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale: The nightingale with feathers new she sings; The turtle to her mate hath told her tale.
Strana 211 - I counsel you, Remember how It is no maiden's law Nothing to doubt, but to run out To wood with an outlaw. For ye must there in your hand bear A bow...
Strana 157 - This maketh me at home to hunt and hawk, And in foul weather at my book to sit, In frost and snow then with my bow to stalk. No man doth mark whereso I ride or go. In lusty leas at liberty I walk, And of these news I feel nor weal nor woe, Save that a clog doth hang yet at my heel.

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